We Sing, We Fight, We Kill Things
by DarkDefender89
Summary: Edward is the human;Bella is the vampire. here's the catch, though: Edward's not so fragile: he is a martial artist. Will that help him when Bella can't control herself around him? Or not? Can they fall in love? Or will they fall apart?
1. MrDanger

**We Sing, We Fight, We Kill Things**

_**A twilight martial arts fanfiction by Calliope Sylvers (aka yuanzhe!)**_

**Summary:** Edward's the human; Bella's the vamp. Edward lives in California and trains Botista Kajukenbo but he moves to Forks.

**Mr. Danger**

_The phone rang, and Edward answered the phone, knowing instantly who it would be._

"_Yo, Edward, you got your brown belt yet? Cause I did."_

"_Congrats, man! How are you? How's Pittsburgh? I've missed you," Edward said into the phone._

Edward jumped out of his bed, his agile feet landing on the tainted wooden floor. His eyes darted from place to place, methodically absorbing his dark, wooden room for one last time. Then he grinned. He ran to his ivory drawer and pulled on a faded pair of jeans (always the ones with the holes on the knees). He threw off his sweaty t-shirt and through on a black T-shirt that said, in crimson red ink, "OMG Kajukenbo." Edward Mason was an honorary member of the Pittsburgh Kajukenbo group – the scarce group of people who found humor of jujitshoes, registering at a restaurant as "Death", mass killing, zombies, et cetera. Edward knew about it all.

Now, saying as he was an honorary member, it didn't mean he didn't train: he sure as hell did train, and he was a green belt in Botista Kajukenbo. He didn't train with his friends, that was the only difference, and none of that mattered anyways.

"Edward! Wake up already!" his mom called frantically. Edward grinned: leave it to sporadic Renee to not hear the phone ringing.

"Hey mom! I'm up!" Edward called. There was humor in his voice.

Edward ran down the rickety staircase and popped a whole-wheat bagel into the toaster. His bronze hair was wild. Tangled strands of hair violently descended over his dark green eyes. His pale, angled face looked sharp in this particular angle of light: one of the kitchen light bulbs burnt out weeks ago, but the other light bulbs glared sharply at Edward.

"Brush your hair, Edward," Renee said. Edward turned around and grimaced.

"Are you serious, mom?" he said, but soon there was a smile on his face. Because of course she wasn't serious; Edward's hair was like this every single day and it wasn't about to change the day Renee and Charlie finally decided to get back together. Edward didn't really mind moving to a completely foreign city for his junior year of high school: not if it meant if his parents, so desperately in love, were officially getting back together.

The toaster made a subtle TSWAP sound and Edward's bagel flew up in the air, crisp and slightly brown around the edges. Edward grabbed it and shoved it into his mouth.

"I'm going downstairs to practice, mom, okay?" Edward said.

"Yeah, fine, just make sure you're ready in three hours," Renee said. Edward grinned. Sure, he would miss the huge basement-turned-dojo, and would not look forward to Forks' damp, murky weather, but something in his bones told Edward to just go along with this. Because why not?

Edward flew down the stairs and grabbed the crumpled black ball – or, that is, what would seem, to the untrained eye, as a crumpled black ball. What it really was, was Edward's wrinkled, unwashed, black gi pants. Edward pulled down his jeans and slipped on the dirty gi pants.

Edward went through several pinyons **(A/N: the equivalent of a karate kata)**. His eyes were fierce, focused on the invisible opponent that was threatening his sanity. Turn around, grab him, then the leg bends with amazing power, pummeling into his ribs and ricocheting back and landing silently on a ground. Not a sound, silent warrior, that is until its time to kiai.

The Prophecy: that's what they say; they all do this because of a prophecy; right about now Edward wants to laugh. There is no fucking prophecy. Just a bunch of men and women who want to destroy things without being seen as deviant. Snap the belt and pour the energy into the mind and body, that's how it goes.

Edward ran through the sixth pinyon and then worked on basic movements up and down red and blue matt: front kicks, side kicks, punches, elbow strikes, back knuckle strikes. Edward had everything in the bucket. This ain't your ordinary bag of tricks. Because man, it ain't no trick.

Edward proceeded to do knuckle pushups on the area of the basement floor that was hardwood. He had conquered the pain a long time ago, knowing that building strong bones was an important factor in martial success. And then there was his brother back in California – they were like brothers, that is, even if they weren't really brothers. Always obsessed with those knuckle push-ups. Not a damn thing wrong with it, either.

Two hours later Edward ran up the staircase, still grinning like a maniac, and jumped in the shower. He would only shower for five minutes; he didn't need that much more of that liquid water. After washing his face, Edward bounded out of the shower and threw his OMG Kajukenbo shirt and holed-jeans back on. He threw his gi into his bag. He ran downstairs and folded up the matts. He sat in that huge basement for the last time, staring at the odd angles of the room with forlorn nostalgia. That blotchy stain on the wall over there, most likely it was dried blood. Edward stared at it with soft green eyes. He finished up folding the matts and flew up the stairs ('_never look back, never look back'_) and threw them in the back trunk of Renee's bright red car. Most of the boxes had already been sent to Charlie's house in Forks; what couldn't be packed would be left for Phil, the man that was buying the house Renee and Edward were (forever) leaving behind.

"Are you ready, Edward?" Renee asked.

And of course, he thought he was.

Always Mr. Danger, that's Edward. Everyone had a nickname in Kajukenbo. Consider it initiation ritual. Nothing painful. Not that pain can't be a good thing. Always depends on the way you look at it.

"Come on!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Edward slid into the shot-gun seat and stared out the window, watching as Phoenix's dry desert land flew backwards, out of their sight. And then their car sped into a wonderland. Metaphorically, of course.

He didn't know that he'd really find her wonderland. But it wouldn't be her wonderland, either. She would redefine wonderland; someone would have to write a whole new book, make a new movie. Redefine wonderland, hmmm.

'_You're not so fragile now, kid.'_

_He never was._

**To Be Continued….**

_So? What do you think? The more reviews I get, the quicker I'll update! Reviews inspire me to write! So tell me what you think!! Please! (=_

_~Calliope-Elizabeth_


	2. Like Water

**It's so annoying writing this on the library computer because I don't have it backed up! But anyways….**

**Also, I'm sorry I'm not "using POVs"…that isn't necessarily true, it's not necessary to label everything _______'s POV…usually it is obvious and moreover I am trying to be in a more omniscient POV (i.e., not directly on Edward's shoulder but also some information that Edward does not have access to. Later, if I transition into Bella's POV, it will probably be obvious but to make it clearer I'll put the POV even though it probably won't be strictly that POV. Okay?**

**Also I didn't mean to make it seem like Edward didn't wash much; that wasn't my intention lol I just want to access our favorite characters from so many different angles! **

**Now for the story….**

**Ch.2**

In no time the Masons were in the small town of Forks, Washington. As usual, it was raining cats and dogs – literally. Okay, so it wasn't _literally_ raining cats and dogs, but the disaster factor was pretty high-scale. Outside the dark green thorny leaves of the bushes and tree almost shimmered; if you looked closely enough you could see a single raindrop fall down on a diamond-shaped leaf with jagged veins. The raindrop is clear, perfectly round, but if you looked closer (with a microscope), you would see how dirty the clear, sparkling raindrop really was.

Edward stepped out of his mother's car and took in his surroundings. He watched the scene in slow motion: even though he hated the cold, that didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate its beauty. Edward was a fighter, yes, but that didn't mean that he didn't have a softer side. And part of being a fighter was to know your surroundings in such a spiritual, intense way…to move with the elements like water, too bend and sway with the wind and blend to the shape of your opponent like water softly flowing out of the way. Then you strike back; the pond out back is pretty peaceful but the ocean can get pretty violent.

The cracked sidewalk was glossy, enthralled by a beautiful but poisonous veil of ice. Beneath the white-clear ice the jagged, broken pieces of the sidewalk were visible. Edward walked to the front door carefully, his backpack slung over his back.

"Be careful, Edward, the ice is slippery," Renee called out.

She always could be such a worry-wart. "I'm fine, Mom," Edward said. It wasn't like he was going to trip and fall on the ice, and if he did then he knew how to break fall. He was a green belt, after all, a brown belt in no time.

Edward knocked on the door and seconds later he saw Charlie for the first time in ten years. "Edward! My, you've grown!" Charlie said. Charlie's hair was a bit longer and his gut was bigger than Edward remembered (not that big, though), but overall he had the look all around that simply screamed _**Charlie**_.

Hugging was always awkward so they skipped that part of the re-introduction; Edward skipped into the house and his eyes widened when he saw the black, polished grand piano.

"You still have that piano!" Edward said, smiling. Renee never had enough money to buy a new piano, so Edward always had to practice at his friends' houses, and that wasn't as often as Edward liked.

Edward ran over to the piano and his fingers ebbed through old music. His fingers never forgot. He sat there for hours, absorbing the atmosphere and pouring all of his energy and passion into the music. Edward loved to fight, but he also loved music. It was his chance to fully be at one with his psyche; it was his meditation; it was his access to his ki. Hours passed, and Edward sat there, still and unmoving except for muscular, trained hands that flowed like water back and forth, gently pressing down on porcelain keys. For hours Edward's body was perfectly still but through his hands he channeled a different sort of energy through a different medium, but the focus was one and the same, and even though his music had mellifluous texture, Edward's eyes were passionate and somewhat fierce and would chill you to your bones. Edward's emerald green eyes were focused forward, on some magnanimous image in his head that only he could see, and that magnificent painting – that glorious fantasy land far away – took perceptible shape in the music pouring out of the grand piano in the first floor of the new-old Mason household.

Hours later, Edward forced himself off of the piano, showered, and went to bed. Tomorrow was a school day, after all.

_And who knew what he would find; as the lights faded and the window-shades gently collided with the raindrop stained window, Edward Mason drifted off to sleep and dreamed of wrist locks and roundhouse kicks; he dreamed illogical dreams where he entered the library from the third floor and practiced kajukenbo on the fourth floor with the Death Team. Outside of Edward's room the broken street lights flickered off and on and the rain poured down belligerently. Sometime in the middle of the night rain turned to freezing rain, but, as this weather was completely normal for the small town, school wouldn't be canceled in the morning._

_000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

In the morning Edward got dressed and hopped into the battered red truck that his childhood pal, Jacob, fixed up for him, and drove to school. A feeling deep inside of his bones told him that he should be excited; to Edward school was nothing exciting, though, and he couldn't quite put a finger on this abnormal feeling stirring inside him.

He chuckled when he remembered first grade, how they handed out sticky name tags and forced you to place them on your puffy Snowman coat. Once Edward safely parked in the Forks High School parking lot, he closed his eyes and imagined what his sticker would be, with dry humor: "Hello, My name is: Mr. Danger."

Edward laughed, grabbed his backpack, and stepped out the door. It was time for a new day, a new beginning, a new everything. Edward had _no idea_ what was in store for him. He sighed at he stared at the crowds of people gather together. They were in no real rush to enter the building, despite how frigid it was outside. Edward shuddered because of the cold and started walking towards the front door. He was almost there when he saw an angel.

Or, he thought he saw an angel. He turned his head a second time and was surprised when he saw the stone-white, godly figure with exquisite dark, almost black, brown hair and blackish-gold eyes. He blinked twice, still not sure if the image he was seeing was an illusion and that he was finally going crazy. He opened his eyes and turned and saw that the angel wasn't alone, besides her stood a shorter, pixie-like version of herself with spiky black hair who surely was the angel's sister. The similarities were too striking, all the way down to eye color, skin tone, even hair color. Edward noticed that a tall, blond-haired boy's arms were wrapped around the pixie, and although he had a smile on his face, he looked like he was in grave pain. Behind them stood a bulky, black haired boy who probably either lifted weights or played sports – Edward wouldn't be surprised if he did both. Besides the black haired boy stood a tall, athletic looking girl with bouncy blond curls; she was just as beautiful as the rest of the "angels", as Edward referred to them, but something seemed very fake about her. Her beauty seemed less…soul deep.

Edward turned back around, deciding to ignore the angels. When he referred to them as angels, it didn't mean he physically thought they were such otherworldly beings. However, he sensed something different about them. In their beauty he saw some sort of ethereal light, but he couldn't help but notice that they stood apart from the gathering crowds. He couldn't help but imagine an age-old statue, perfect in its form and beauty, sitting on the mantel piece in his old house, long neglected and gathering dust. And something inside of Edward screamed at the thought of that statue, frozen in his old house, beautiful but incapable of feeling or breathing. He looked back at the angels (or maybe he could call them ghosts, they were pale enough) one more time and noticed things beyond their beauty: the insecure way the first one he saw stood, who was indubitably the most beautiful of the five. He also noticed the way their eyes glazed forward, paying careful attention to not catch the gaze of any passerby. At the same time, though, there was something very fierce and powerful in their eyes, something he saw only in the eyes of martial artists. And it wasn't deep-seated anger, no, that wasn't what Edward saw. It wasn't exactly the undying passion Edward would expect of painters and musicians, but it was something in between the glare of an artist and the glare of the fighter. Yes, there was something hard in their eyes, especially in the long, brown-haired one's eyes – something that suggested that a veil shrouded their eyes; a stony wall descended over their auras and Edward saw all of this in the way they held themselves and in the beauty and harshness of their eyes. He saw a different kind of fear in them, the fear of letting other people in. And he knew by their eyes that these angelic creatures were the kind of people who would be outcasts and be perfectly fine with that. They didn't _want_ to talk to other people.

Edward walked into the school building and into the main office. The lady behind the desk had gray hair and librarian-style blue-rimmed glasses. "Hello, my name is Edward Mason. I'm new here. Can I get my schedule?" Edward said.

"Sure, just wait one minute," the lady said. Her blue-gray eyes were soft and her freckled skin painted a picture of a kindly old librarian, all dried out but still holding on, just doing the best she could and never out to get anyone. The lady came back and handed Edward a bunch of papers. "Here you go, a schedule and a map to help you get around this old place."

Edward hurried off to his first class, Literature, finding it easy to get around. He was in an advanced program at his old school, so he caught on really quickly. He sat in the back and avoided the gaze of the other students. Time passed and eventually the bell rang. Edward was weary of going to lunch because he knew that he would have no place to sit. One of the popular kids, Mike, already sneered at Edward in the hallway and Edward knew right away that he wasn't going to fit in. Not that he cared about fitting in. So instead of going to lunch, Edward snuck out the back door and worked on one of his pinyons in the back yard. Time passed quickly, and soon it was time to go to Biology…

**To Be Continued….**


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